In Part 2 of his travels in Tenerife,
Ed returns to tells us of the majesty of Teide, the magic of Maska
and the mayhem of Puerto de la Cruz.

Did you notice that I moaned about the rain in Puerto de la Cruz
in Part 1? Well, in all
fairness, I guess that gives me the right to now moan about the heat
and humidity in Part 2. During this trip it only rained two nights
in a fortnight. How refreshing to have weather as variable as England.
But in England, black clouds signify rain. Here this does not often
apply; they appear to have things organized here so it rains only
at night and not during the day. Which, it has to be said, is one
of the few things that is organized around here. They recently built
a new sewage disposal system, for example, but forgot to connect it
up to anything. You know how these things happen. Planning is a bore
and you can always do it tomorrow. Pity though, because it now means
digging up all the roads after most of them had just been given a
nice new surface. Come to think of it, there are an awful lot of similarities
between here and England - except for the weather.

They get what they call 'African Weather' here, when sand blows in
from the African Sahara and the sun blazes down even in the north
of the island and the temperature rises significantly for a few days.
I just revisited the island to stay at Puerto again, and over two
weeks, the first was extremely hot and humid (upper thirties centigrade)
while the following week was mid-twenties to mid thirties. Of course,
such is the freaky nature of the weather on this planet these days
that nothing is particularly predictable - anywhere. Everyone said
this was hotter than usual for early September. Although I staid at
an historic old hotel with splendid palm court, it had one disadvantage:
just fans, not air-conditioning. This scheme was not particularly
conducive to sleeping at night. But that's another story that I shall
not let slip. Let's get back to that all important topic, the weather,
for a moment - and the two climates of the island.

Most
of the Canaries suffer from the humid-north and dry-south syndrome.
What happens in Tenerife is that each night the clouds (via trade
winds) come in from the north and, if they are heavy with moisture,
they bump into the mountain, being too heavy to ascend and pass over.
These heavy clouds then gradually release their water into the waiting
Canary pine trees, with each little needle extracting its own share
of droplets which they then drip onto the ground to be soaked up in
subterranean levels and filtered by Nature to be delivered by water
courses for use as water on the island. Once they are light enough
the clouds can make their fluffy ascent and then pass over the mountain.
It's a great little scheme, although they have to supplement it in
the south by desalination plants working on sea water to cope with
all those visitors who seem to expect and endless supply. In the north
you can feel the increased humidity brought on by the presence of
clouds; in the south you can feel the dryer heat. The division between
these two climates brings about a sudden divide with respect to the
vegetation, and the picture above shows this on the ridge of a mountain
with vegetation on the northern side seen as a sharp contrast to the
arid southern side. Of course, what goes in must go out, if you get
my drift, so I was a little bit suspicious about the murky line on
the sea just out from the bathing beach in Puerto which never seemed
to disperse. (Did I tell you they were working on the sewage system?)
Now I'm not saying anything in particular - other than I preferred
the look of the albeit small hotel pool.

Not that such things as water quality seemed to worry a couple of
fearless fishermen I was amazed to see fishing off the cliff face
just to the east of Puerto by that tunnel with oval windows facing
the sea. I made a special effort to see how they got to their favourite
fishing spots, one being right down near sea level having descended
what was virtually a sheer rock face. There was certainly no way up
from the bottom and the Atlantic thrashed on the rocks below him with
nothing worth mentioning between him and Iceland to the (far) north.
It was scary. That they risked their lives for fish more dangerously
than those who went out in little boats on high seas seemed plain
when I saw one of them clambering back across dangerous rocky ridges
clutching his rod and tackle box. He had a tiny fish that put a triumphant
smile on his face. Maybe he had being doing that since he was a kid.
Maybe he was lucky. Maybe his prayers were always answered. Maybe
he had great boots. I just feel it is testing your faith a little
too much when you are middle-aged and still behaved like a reckless
youth. (Which perhaps says more about my age than theirs.)

Now, back to sleeping at night - or not. Where we stayed
up on the hill the last time H and I visited Puerto, it was out of
town and fairly quiet. I slept at night. But it was a long walk into
town and a terrible climb back. This time we were downtown, right
in the hub - and that amounted to hubbub. Whilst it may seem a sensible
scheme to have a siesta for three or four hours from noon
in a place that can get as hot as this, there can be a drawback for
those not used to it. Because everyone wakes up at 4 pm and takes
on a new lease of life, many are still going strong at 2 am the following
morning. And when I say strong, what I really mean is LOUD. There
seems to be something about the Spanish way of communicating that
requires LOUD. Just across from the hotel was what, in English, translates
as 'Europe Square' (Plaza de Europa), bordering on the sea.
A couple of wide, open paved areas next to the police station proved
ideal for the island lads and their skateboards. Slap, slap, slap...
the endless sound, not of the waves, but of the lads trying to jump-turn
their skateboards. They seem to spend their life trying to achieve
this but, clearly, theylearn slowly. And so it goes on, and on, and
on. Slap, slap, slap. Even late at night. Then there is the regular,
informal football practice in this square when other lads (and lassies)
really get enthusiastic. In fact, so enthusiastic are they that they
sometimes turn up in the early hours of the morning in loud cars to
begin an enthusiastic - and LOUD - game.

The road is cobbled by the square, and that gets a tad noisy every
20 minutes or so when the free road train to Lora Park clatters
and rattles along it. But if you think the noise sounds bad from the
roadside, try riding it across the cobbles for that extra thrill akin
to riding a bucking bronco. This road is one-way and single-file at
this point. Beneath the square is a car park, so when cars queue at
the barrier to get into the car park and 'passing traffic' cannot
pass, patience does snap at times, judging by the gentle chorus of
horns. Another well thought-out scheme! Like that one on the day we
tried to escape Puerto to get back to the airport, important minutes
ticking away, only to find both exit roads clogged up with traffic:
one route affected by sewage pipe digging work and the other by tree
trimming work. They might not worry about things until tomorrow, bu
when tomorrow comes...

Then there was the night the square resounded to the sound of what
I can only describe as 'massed drums rehearsal'. It had to be a rehearsal
- surely - because it did seem to improve in a qualitative sort of
way as it went on. But that was the trouble, it went on and on, and
on - and quantitatively it just grew and grew. Were more and more
drummers being drafted in as the night progressed or did they just
work themselves up into a frenzy? Make no mistake, we're talking big
bass drums here, not bongos. And when they got it right they just
couldn't stop themselves. What enthusiasm. Suddenly it would stop,
a couple of people would clap - we almost joined it at the thought
of peace at last - and then... you guessed, it, it started over again.
Just millions of drums and someone blowing a whistle like a loose
cannon. (Could it have been a lone policeman harassing them on our
behalf?) Three hours, my friends. Three hours of throbbing temples.
Then, after finally getting to sleep that hot and humid night, a loudspeaker
in a car started up in the square in fierce German in what sounded
like a Nazi rally at half-past three in the morning. Half-past three!
What is it with these people? I think they should ban siestas if this
is what it does to their body clocks. I tried afternoon siestas to
counter the effects of poor sleep at night. The result? Couldn't sleep
at night.

Having
mentioned a few of the downsides of staying downtown, it is only fair
to mention a few upsides. Puerto de
la Cruz is a charming place and is most pleasantly
green. it is a great pleasure to sit at a café table in El
Charco Square (Plaza de Charco) and watch the world
go by. As someone said to me, "People come out here and expect
things yesterday for a couple of years, but then they realize tomorrow
will do. Or the day after." And that goes for service at some
of the restaurants and cafés but hey, that's what you're paying
to do: relax. So just RELAX. You'll also wait to pay... unless you
abandon the table with funds. But that's what it's all about: RELAXING.
There's always all night to do other stuff, right? Yep, it was great
to be able to just turn out of the hotel right into the heart of this
throbbing little town.

The
northern part of the island might be more humid, but the rain associated
with that does mean it is beautifully green. The picture to the left
is from my hotel roof and is of what is known locally as 'Old Ladies
Square'. It shows the bonus of this: beauty within the town. This
square is one of many beautiful places to sit, and there are many
shady palms to give you shade outside the church; hence the appeal,
I imagine, for old ladies (and gentlemen). You can reach this square
by following the main drag (Calle Quintana) from Plaza
de Charco. And the angels/fairies come out at night in Puerto...
on their pedestals, ever ready to give you a wave, smile or twirl
at the drop of a coin. Goodness knows how it pays their time. H had
a weak spot for the bronze statue with the hat who was always ready
to give it a twirl for a coin in his tin. It was his cheeky little
smile that won her heart.

Puerto
has a promenade (Calle San Telmo) that leads towards Avenida
Colón and the Lago Martiánez complex of
pools that allows anyone to wallow in pools surrounded by vegetation
or worship the sun on beds aplenty. The promenade is always busy but
it comes alive at night with families, couples, break-dancers, African
hawkers and hair twirlers plus, of course, tourists. There's so little
beach here that people drape themselves along the rocky walls, girls
preen, men are seen, many are lean. At the other end of town there
is the garden beach (Playa Jardin) where surfers try to surf
(I told you they were slow learners here) and hang-glider operatives
soar down to a landing having leapt earlier off the mountain that
is Teide. The sand, though, is black; but that's what you
get from volcanoes, funnily enough. There is space to spread a towel
here, grab a (shabby) sunbed or even eat at a beach side café.

While in Tenerife in one of your more relaxed moments, you might
like to try the local drink, a lumumba; unlike the usual
cocktail of this name, their lumumba is hot chocolate with
brandy (1 oz). Personally I like hot chocolate and I like brandy,
but I think it a shame they have been introduced; I feel it spoils
the uniqueness of both. But that's just me. What do I know of such
sophistication?

The Orchid Garden

Hidden
up the hill behind Puerto lies the orchid garden (Jardín
de Orquídeas) created by - and subsequently maintained
by - Englishmen! It is reputed to be the oldest garden in Tenerife.
One thing is certain, no matter how many times I go back to Puerto,
I shall always revisit this garden. Even if you do not particularly
like orchids, still visit it, for it is the most beautiful and tranquil
garden you could ever wish wish to find. (This most beautiful spot
is truly worth trying to find! It is tucked away up a narrow and steep
little road not far from the big tower block seen from everywhere
and known as Bel-Air. From the shopping centre off the palmy
road known as Calle Aguilar y Queseda, turn your back on
the sea and head for the Bel-Air block bearing right of the
big storm drain shown on the map as Barranco Martianez, walking
along Calle de Valois. Look for the 'Orchid Gardens' sign
pointing up the steep hill of Camino el Robado to your left,
just beyond a little garden - where you might wish to sit and conserve
your strengh for the climb that is to come.) When you do find the
Orchid Garden you will be amply rewarded. It is not large but it is
charming and beautiful. It contains many separate 'rooms' including
water features, a croquet lawn and the all important orchid walk.
There is also a splendid garden tea room where you can get a genuine
cup of English tea! It was even served by an English girl. This is
a garden with history, and I will mainly leave it to reveal this to
you itself - other than to say it was originally a convent with the
mansion being built in 1730. It was purchased in 1774 by Archibald
Little, a British merchant, whose family owned it until 1854, when
it was then purchased by another Englishman, Charles Smith whose family
then owned it right up until 1996. It opens daily 0930 - 1430 hrs.

Maska and Garachico... and Dragons

There are a number of set trips offered around the island, and the
'Maska and Garachico' one is a very pleasant day out. If you go by
tour bus this will be shorter than a normal bus in order to cope with
hair-pin bends. Yes, be warned. Talking of trips, be aware of the
'blanket tours'. These are trips offered at around half the price
of normal tours, and the catch is that it will include a session of
high-pressure sales; this might be blankets, even pearls, but if it's
cheap, there's bound to be a reason. They say there's no such thing
as a free lunch; with a blanket trip, there might be, but you need
to be resilient. It also goes without saying that if you're going
to take time out for the sales pitch and enforced shopping, then something
has to give somewhere; and that has to be time actually touring. We
took a 'proper' tour without all that hassle. (And watch out for the
scratch-card timeshare scams of course. They're everywhere now.)

Setting
out west from Puerto de la Cruz it is inevitable that a tour with
take in Icon de Los Vinos to see the great Dragon Tree. (I
mentioned it in Part 1.)
But I learned even more about these fascinating trees from the splendid
guide on my second visit. I said before that this particular Dragon
Tree was reputed to be at least 1,000 years old; some same 3,000 but,
whatever, it is said to be the oldest Dragon Tree in the world. I
can now, reveal, however, why there is such a large discrepancy between
these estimates: they are purely guesses! No one really knows how
old this tree is - or any dragon tree. Unlike conventional trees that
show a ring-per-year of growth, the dragon trees do not. And because
of their habit of letting down aerial roots all around them, the trunk
of really old trees such as this become totally obscured by these
roots and the original trunk actually rots away to leave a hollow
middle. This has happened to this old giant, and it was in some danger
due to the poor condition of its rotting trunk until the local tree-doctor
decided firm action was required to get to the root of the problem.
They cut a little door at the base of the tree and went inside to
clear out the rotten wood. Then they inserted a ventilator to help
it breath and keep in pristine condition. Upon close inspection you
will see the power lead for this even now. So this is possibly the
only tree that has had intensive care and remains on a life support
system. But it looks very healthy now. Well done that tree doctor.

Maska
is an isolated mountain village that, until recent years, could only
be reached by donkey. You might ask why anyone would want to live
in a place so difficult to reach. The answer is because it was such
a difficult place to reach. No, this is not the hideaway of celebrities,
it was originally a pirate village. Land the contraband on this coastline
and you were free to take it by donkey without any prying eyes whenever
you saw fit. And you needed to be fit to live there. Today there is
the mountain road, fairly straightforward from nearby Garachico in
the east, fairly 'bendy' and hari-raising from the west: the preferred
entry for tour buses.

Once
there you can walk down the cobbled lane to a great little café
and enjoy a tremendous view and that mountain silence that is so rewarding
to the ears. I tried their cactus drink: a dry, red liquid that tasted
a little like cranberry juice. This is, perhaps, one of the most tranquil
- and green - spots on the island. It's well worth a visit although,
I must warn you, the tours don't stop there for long. This is probably
because there is no proper parking and a long string of buses would
not improve the tranquility. The other option is to stay in a holiday
cottage there! This would, of course, necessitate navigating this
road whenever you went anywhere else - apart from the many walks you
can do right there. The walks would have a tendency to go up and down
rather a lot, I suspect, and the drives the tendency to require edging
past tour buses from time to time, but apart from that, this does
offer up a unique alternative to conventional hotel board for the
more adventurous - and active!

The tour then went along to Garachico,
once the most important harbour on Tenerife. The original importance
of Tenerife was that it served as a good staging post for transatlantic
ships plying early trade between the New World and Europe. And it
was a useful place for trying out new crops that originated in Europe
and were making their way to the USA or a new crop coming from the
USA to Europe. This was how sugar cane became a major crop on the
island; it was exported to America. America, of course, does it 'bigger
and better' so, inevitably, the bottom fell out of that market once
they figured out how to grow it there and they developed that fiendish
sweet tooth that could not be adequately supported from outside that
great continent. (They've been growing ever since.) So then they began
growing grapes and exporting wine from Tenerife; they needed trade
to survive on an island. Which was fine until a disease put paid to
the vines and the wines. Cochineal came next in the endless struggle
to earn a crust, that colourful little bug that provided the red dye
the Americans were dying for but... guess what, that died out when
those sneaky Americans invented artificial colourants. Never to be
defeated, the islanders then came up with bananas. Until, of course,
they couldn't even produce and ship these competitively. So what do
you think they've been growing ever since? Tourism! The market for
this, they rightly feel, will not dry up, and with some 80% of the
population now dependent upon it, they are right to welcome the tourist.
The little - but sweet - Tenerife bananas are still exported, mainly
to Spain, but even bananas are falling foul of the European Union
and their ridiculous laws; where else would anyone try to regulate
the shape and size of a banana? (Why can't they regulate how many
regulations they turn out per year? They regulate everything else.)

The
real end came for the harbour town of Garachico in 1706 when the town
was destroyed by the worst recorded volcanic eruption on the island.
Most of what is to be seen today had been rebuilt above the ruins
of the old town, although the Castillo de San Miguel still
survives. The picture looking down on the town from high above on
the mountains is a shot taken between the two lava flows that embraced
the town in its fiery grip. The fall of Garachico meant that many
people decided to emigrate to America but this was not because they
wanted to leave - simply because there was no work left for them on
the island. A statue in the town depicts the spirit of this as a man
leaving with suitcases... but sadly with a hole in his heart.

Teide National Park

The
drive up from Puerto de la Cruz through the Oratava Valley and then
up through the clouds to the Teide National Park should be
compulsory for all visitors. Several tour companies offer this trip
- or you could hire a car. This shot, just above the cloud cover,
was the place from which hang-gliders take off to soar down to the
coast at Puerto. The climb up to here is through the Canarian Pines
that capture the moisture from the clouds, as explained earlier. The
pine cones of these pines, incidentally, are like little bendy snakes
of interwoven threads, not at all like the conical cones usually associated
with pines. The pines on these mountains are also different in another
important way. They have a tough inner core that survives fire and
quickly regrows after any forest fires. The forest is beautiful in
itself and a huge contrast to the barren south side of the island.

En-route
to the national park you pass what is known as St. David's Cake.
This is a fascinating example of strata that serves as an aperitif
as to what is to come once you reach the national park proper: a cross
between a lunar and a Martian landscape!

The
left-hand shot shows the distant peak of Teide taken from within the
Teide National Park. Much of the year it is in snow. The right-hand
shot gives you an impression of the varied landscape within the park
area. What you need to understand is that the Teide National Park
is itself located within the caldera of a much larger original volcano.
Over many thousands of years this formed the largest crater in Europe.
In round numbers, this is at an approximate altitude of 6,000 ft,
and the current highest point of the present volcanic cone (Pico
del Teide) rises from within this huge area to around 12,000
ft. The original volcano fell within itself, right down to its magma
chamber, some 24,000 ft below, and the outer rim of this formed the
75 km volcanic rim that defines the caldera; this was the huge
original volcano in which you can now stand! In the right-hand picture
you can see the distant rim of the original volcano.

The
caldera contains a fantastic range of rocks and colours, rocks that
were ejected and hurled into the torrent of pyroclastic and papills
materials, lava flows and emission of gas. Add to this the varying
viscosity of the magma and the time required to cool off and you begin
to understand the strange architecture of rocks to be seen here. Marvel
at the power of Nature in the raw. This picture shows you what is
known as the 'rose in stone', the results of the cooling of lava from
a volcanic pipe. (Check it for scale against the person in yellow
to the left.)

This picture serves to show you how green it is up here in places,
and this helps explain how it was that I thought I glimpsed a wild
dog when we were passing up through the forest. Later on I saw another
emaciated dog with a chain collar (minus tag). I tried to tempt it
with a piece of my lunch but it sniffed and was not interested, despite
the fact it was a starving bag of bones. I took its picture but I
spare you that. Further enquiries established they hunt on the mountain
and that some dogs do get lost. This was one of those dogs. I hope
it did not suffer too long in the heat of that arid mountain where,
at the exposed level it had reached, there can be hardly any life.

It is possible to ascend to the summit of the Teide by cable car.
Indeed, the leaflet of Teleférico del Teide tells
you that, thanks to its cableway, 'the peak is accessible in only
a few minutes'; what it doesn't tell you is that you could queue for
hours to get onto their cableway; 2-3 hours is not uncommon! That's
why most tours no longer offer this as part of the deal. And given
the fact that there is only one service bus early in the morning that
goes there from Puerto, and another one back in the later afternoon,
the bus is not a practical solution either. So if you really want
to do this it's either a car or an (expensive) taxi you'll be needing.
I settled for the national park and for looking up at the peak. I
hear you only get eight minutes up there anyway.

Teide is very different to the black mountain that is the typical
volcanic landscape of Lanzarote, for example. The National Park will
surprise you with the colour within the rocks, not to mention the
scattered vegetation. Get your timing right and you can even see flowers
blooming up here. Teide is an island of contrasts and delights. If
you do no more than stay in the southern tourist resorts of Playa
las Américas or Los Cristianos you miss a great deal. Yet that
is what the average tourist does. Let me urge you to spare some hours
from your risky sun worship and tempt you to visit the green north,
the mountainous Teide and the enchantment of Maska. If you've been
to Tenerife and never discovered these, then you have done the island
a great injustice, and you have only seen the parched edge of this
richly contrasting island. Be bold!

School days - the best days of your life? Of course they are! - and it's probably the same for the kids, too! Enter the Wild Wood that is secondary education and see it from the side of so-called authority. Remember that teachers can be wags, too, and their sense of humour is their only hope of at least playing a draw...

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time

Mark Haddon

A murder mystery - told by an autistic version of Adrian Mole! 15-year-old Christopher John Francis Boone is mathematically gifted but socially hopeless, taking everything at face value. He resolves to discover who has murdered Wellington the dog.

Jemima J: A Novel about Ugly Ducklings and Swans

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With a fast-paced plot that never quits and a surprise ending no reader will see coming, Jemima J is the chronicle of one woman's quest to become the woman she's always wanted to be, learning along the way a host of lessons about attraction, addiction, the meaning of true love, and, ultimately, who she really is.

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A wonderful novel which follows the life of ace US Marine fighter pilot Jack McGuire. Trying to rebuild his life post WW2, he moves to the Solomon Islands, where he builds a hotel on an island he flew over in his combat years. From his days on the family farm and the trauma of the loss of his twin brother, through flying school to his war service and retirement, we share his hopes and disappointments, his exhilarations and despairs.